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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28698309">back-rank mate</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/allintuta/pseuds/allintuta'>allintuta</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Final Fantasy XIV</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops &amp; Cafés, Gen, Soul Bond</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 08:29:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>760</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28698309</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/allintuta/pseuds/allintuta</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Betting my name on a game of chess,” she muses. “Information is the most valuable asset we have. You might as well ask me to bet my life.”</p>
<p>Her thumb runs over the crown of the black queen and the peg that denotes its color. She smirks with the same deadly intent as the piece in her hand. </p>
<p>“I accept.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Emet-Selch &amp; Y'shtola Rhul</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Bookclub Top Trope Challenge (January 2021)</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>back-rank mate</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For the January trope challenge.</p>
<p>Disclaimer: author does not know much about chess. No, they haven't even watched Queen's Gambit.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She’s sitting in the back of the coffee shop, her tail tucked against her body like some closely-guarded secret. </p>
<p>He has no doubt that those lips, pressed into an intriguingly — infuriatingly — unreadable line, safeguard a veritable wealth of forbidden knowledge. Her eyes betray even less; yet even rendered sightless, he can feel them trained on his movements as he saunters through the patrons clustered around the counter.</p>
<p>Emet-Selch has always had a penchant for the theatrical. The world is his stage and he is the lone tragedian who makes his way through the cafe with a lazy grace, much like an actor captivating an audience with their gravitas alone. </p>
<p>He seats himself across from her. She acknowledges him only with a minute twitch of her brow. Her body language is far more disciplined than that of most miqo’te he has seen, adding to the air of mystery that she has cloaked herself in. </p>
<p>Her fingers skim deftly along the pages of the book perched in her lap. She mouths the words to herself as she reads them with her fingertips, molding the tactile letters into syllables and sounds. </p>
<p>It’s only when she reaches the end of the chapter that she deigns to set it aside. Emet-Selch watches as she takes an indulgent sip of her drink before speaking to him.</p>
<p>“You’ve made a habit of coming here,” she remarks, foregoing any of the pleasantries that would precede a conversation between friends. </p>
<p>“I find the company less disagreeable than most,” Emet-Selch drawls. He sinks into the weathered cushion of the chair with the weariness of a man beyond his years, legs akimbo, chin propped up in his hand as he shrewdly analyzes the woman before him. </p>
<p>She doesn’t shrink beneath his scrutiny, and he knows it would be a discredit to her to attribute her fortitude to her blindness. </p>
<p>They’re a study in contrasts as she sits up tall and primly brings her cup to her mouth. Her lips carry the slight sheen of a gloss, drawing unwitting observers to their demise by the sharp tongue and wit concealed beneath them.</p>
<p>“Flattery will get you nowhere,” she chides, apparently finding the aroma of her tea more captivating than his presence. “You’ve been coming here with some sort of agenda, I presume. I would prefer you save us both the trouble and be upfront with it.”</p>
<p>“Right to the point, I see,” Emet-Selch says. He drapes one leg over the other, his movements languid despite — because of — her desire for a succinct conversation. “Your cynicism wounds me. I can assure you I have no ulterior motives.”</p>
<p>Her ears perk, searching for lies where he knows she’ll find none. “Do you, now.”</p>
<p>“I’m nothing if not an honest man.”</p>
<p>She sets down her teacup. Her slender fingers handle the china with an appropriate delicacy, but he has no doubt that they are capable of conducting themselves with lethal force. </p>
<p>“You’re persistent for someone who is simply not averse to my presence,” she says dryly. “Yet I find myself disinclined to spend my time with someone who won’t so much as tell me his name.”</p>
<p>“And yet, you have neglected to volunteer yours.” Emet-Selch offers her a goading smile. She may not be able to see it, but surely she can hear the provocation dripping from his tone. “I believe we find ourselves at an impasse.”</p>
<p>“So we do.” She straightens her shawl, elegant and proper. There’s an unspoken dare in the arch of her brow, the quirk of her lips. </p>
<p>There’s a neglected collection of board games piled up beneath the coffee table. Emet-Selch casts a cursory glance over the stack, wondering just how many of them have been patched together with improvised pieces.</p>
<p>“A wager,” he proposes.</p>
<p>She pauses, her cup poised at her lips. “Oh?”</p>
<p>Emet-Selch pulls out a chess set that seems to have miraculously weathered the test of time. The pieces jostle together as he sets the box down between them, drawing her to seek them out with her fingertips. </p>
<p>“You seem like a woman who doesn’t shy away from a challenge,” Emet-Selch says as he lays out the pieces on the board. “Or has my faith been misplaced?”</p>
<p>“Betting my name on a game of chess,” she muses. “Information is the most valuable asset we have. You might as well ask me to bet my life.”</p>
<p>Her thumb runs over the crown of the black queen and the peg that denotes its color. She smirks with the same deadly intent as the piece in her hand. </p>
<p>“I accept.”</p>
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